T-47 Book II (Saxon Saga 6)

by Frederick Gerty

  Lt. Ngoto saw the problem immediately as he approached the hilltop mansion of Borrelia. One of the smaller floaters, well, floated in front of it, just inside the gate, hovering over the driveway. Blocking the way. It just sat there. He called a halt to his vehicle a hundred meters out, and studied the device in his binoculars. A perfect ovoid, glistening, unblemished, shiny in the light. No sign of weapons, but he knew from the battlefield reports, that meant nothing.

  “What do we do now, Lt.?” his driver asked him.

  “I’ll call HQ, and see,” he said, clicking on his radio.

  No immediate response, as he knew to expect. No one made a decision on the aliens without going to the top, probably to the prince himself. And that’d take time.

  Questions came back several minutes apart. He answered them. And waited.

  Finally, an order, from the commander himself: “Proceed directly to the mansion. Seize anyone inside. Bypass the alien device, or fight your way past it if necessary. Move now, immediately.”

  Lt. Ngoto knew he was going to die. He sent his men out of the carrier and off to the side, scattered them in the grass along the roadway. He alone sat in the PC. He moved it forward slowly, hoping the floater would leave, the men hurrying alongside in the field. The alien device did not move. When no more than 50 meters out, he stopped. Using the outside speaker, he commanded it to move away, allow him to pass, he was on an official mission, by orders of the Prince of the Realm, himself.

  No response.

  Crouching down inside the machine, knowing he was killing himself, he aimed the cannon at the ground just past the gate, in front of the machine, and fired, closing his eyes. He felt the shudder, heard the shot, then the reloading mechanism work. Opening his eyes, he said, “I’ll get a second shot?”

  Instead, looking out, he saw the spreading cloud of dust and smoke wisping away downwind, a large hole in the driveway, and most astonishing, the alien device backing up and away.

  His men began to cheer, and rush forward, and he lurched the machine ahead, now hurrying to keep up with them. The alien device moved away faster, over toward the mansion, and then upward, joined by two others. They all disappeared in a clap of thunder, and Lt. Ngoto and his men rushed onward, and into the mansion.

  They found it quiet and totally empty.

  But he knew his reputation was made–he, Lt. Ngoto had fought the aliens, and forced them away, to retreat, with a single shot. He would be promoted, honored, no doubt. Yes, this was fine day for him, after all.

  His granddaughter whimpered beside him, and Borrelia put his arm around the girl.

  “Look outside, we’re leaving the planet,” he said, pointing to a small screen to the side of the larger one.

  “I don’t care, I’m scared. I don’t want to go. These things are ugly, and they...” Her voice faded away, as the views on the screens darkened.

  Borrelia sat in amazement, that such a small machine could so effortlessly, and silently, leave the planet, overcome the heavy gravity debt, and head up toward orbit, without the deafening rumble of chemical engines, so simply. He looked past the screen, at the forward end, where two of the ugly bugs sat and operated the machine, past the two others, the ones that looked a little like themselves, but not exactly. Well, maybe they operated it, maybe not. A bewildering array of lights and dials, and numerous small screens displayed all sorts of symbols, many changing constantly. From time to time, the arms, if that’s what they were on the pilots, moved, adjusted things, or touched them, sometimes displays changed, sometimes they didn’t.

  After a while, the pressure on him eased, and he sensed he sort of floated. His eyes went past the pilots, to the small windows in front of them, and then out, into a blackness he’d never imagined. But things glowed there, tiny bright blips, and he watched. Soon, they appeared on the screen, too, but he preferred the window. He pointed to it, and one of the two aliens beckoned him forward, a privilege he’d never expected.

  He undid the harness, and did float upward, he grabbed the seat, and pushed and pulled himself ahead, past the screen on the ceiling, to a seat just behind the pilots. The alien strapped him in again, but now, closer, he could lean and see more of the scene outside, not totally black after all, but filled with large and small circles, dots, specks–the many stars of the universe. He stared in wonder at the amazing sight.

  The pilots seemed to be speaking, he could hear tinny sounds from time to time, lightly amplified. And they did move and adjust things, but the machine seemed to be steering itself. Some of the lights outside began to flash and blink.

  They closed in on the flashing lights quickly, and he saw each to be a ship–a tiny ship, hanging in orbit, a small cluster of them, six in all, everything approaching rapidly. And no, not tiny ships, but big ships, two quite huge, two medium, two a little smaller. Several dwarfed their newest space station, floating nearby.

  The ships were like nothing he’d ever seen, very large engines, yes, on the aft end, but larger areas above them, in the mid-section, with dark and light squares showing cargo bays or storage areas, clearly doors of some sort, out-riggers with antennas or something, and numerous tiny round spots that might be cabins above that. Many people in them? The alien was right, they had thousands of people here. Their own ships were called “Tonnes of fuel and teacups of brains” for their size to carrying capacity. The realization of what they were against, truly against, began to seep into him, and a sense of shame built in him, for their actions against the wonders he saw.

  To his surprise, they did not go to the largest ship, but instead to one of the smaller ones. this one was quite graceful, he thought, stylized even, sleek and efficient.

  As he passed two of the others, he noticed streaks and splotches, blast damage of some sort, he figured. From the battle, no doubt.

  They closed in on the small ship, and music began to play from somewhere, a sweet, melodious tune, that seemed to give sound to their slow and graceful passage. And as the music played, they swept forward, slowed, the ship now an immense object dead ahead, hardly small, and they drifted into one of the lighted squares on the side of a very large ship, indeed.

  Suited figures met them inside, dogging down the floater. He felt heavy again, held against the seat not by the straps, but by gravity. He knew that was impossible. Then nothing happened. He waited, watching those outside, who just stood there. A sound began to build, a hiss, then a roar, that peaked, and slowed, and faded away. The rear ramp popped, moved a millimeter, then began to slowly descend. Six aliens waited there, fortunately, all of them look-alikes. One waved him out. He bent to pick up some of the boxes as he passed, but was stopped by a voice saying, “Leave the goods, we will transport them for you, after decontamination.”

  He shivered at that, but gathered his family, and slowly stepped onto the floor of the ship.

  “Gravity,” he said to his wife as they followed the guide. “They even have gravity, I thought we’d be floating up here. Unbelievable.”

  She said nothing, in obvious discomfort, as were all his people, he saw, staring in fear at everything around them.

  “May we find a place of relief?” he said to the nearest alien.

  “Immediately, we go there now, follow me.” The suited figure lead the way off, through a door he needed to punch in a code to open, then along a curving corridor. They passed another large bay. Borrelia looked inside through a large window and saw a number of floaters, obviously damaged, being repaired by groups of aliens. He wondered if they were the ones from the recovery operation at Novaja.

  They arrived in a very bright series of small rooms. One held a number of holes in the floor, on a raised section. The alien pointed to them. A display on the wall showed what to do, and all his family rushed inside, and took turns on the four receptacles. He did not need to, so waited outside.

  Next, they were led to a shower room, something he recognized. Hot water started, pouring on them, and some sort of soap with a powerful aroma. Four legged te
chs arrived to scrub them with long handled brushes, one by one, which felt rather nice, then rinsed them well. They moved on into a drying room, warm air blasting against them, stirring patterns on their fur. Again, the techs moved among them with nozzles, drying the joint areas of their skin. It all felt quite comforting, actually.

  Now, more exams, from some sort of globes, scanners that floated around each of them several times, relaying info to people beyond glass walls just nearby, those strange giant birds looking at them. The techs asked for a hand, and pricked a finger on each, and siphoned off a small sample of blood. Tannika cried out in hurt, the others were silent.

  With that done, another door opened, and they were ushered into a pleasant room, not too large, but one with a window opening to the outside. A figure standing there turned as they entered. Alexii, his son.

  Mother and son raced to embrace each other, and then Alexii went to the father, and his two sisters. Last, he picked up Tannika and said, “Tanni, did you ever imagine anything like this?”

  “No, and I’m scared, and I want to go home.”

  “Come, look, and see where home is now.”

  Alexii led the way to the window, and Borrelia sucked in his breath. Below them, impossibly far below, the world circled in white and blue and orange and green and brown.

  “That’s where home is, and it’s pretty far away.” Alexii looked at his father. “Have we lost it forever?”

  “Perhaps. But to have stayed would have gotten us only a piece of it, two meters down. We’d all be dead by now, if we’d stayed. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

  Together, they looked out at the world turning majestically below them.

  A door opened, and one of the funny two legged beings entered, towing a tray that floated in the air behind it. Setting it down on a table near the wall, the alien lifted a colorful cloth covering, motioned to the tray, and a voice said from somewhere, “These refreshments are for you, they are from the planet, and are safe to eat.” It bowed, and left.

  The group took water, fruit and bread items, and began to eat them. Another being entered–one of the heavy ones, with the swirling robes with crazy patterns.

  It spoke to Borrelia, “The Sky Lady meets with her managers, and invites you to observe. Will you accompany me?”

  With little option, and with a great desire to see more of the ship, and learn what was going on, but fearful of trickery, Borrelia said, “Of course, I shall be honored.” He turned to his family and said, “I will return as soon as I can,” though he did not know if that was true, or not.

  The alien led the way out the door, and down a corridor, its robes wavering and swirling as it went. It led the way into what was obviously an elevator, and they ascended for a short time. Leaving it, Borrelia noticed the aroma of foods, or something, alien smells, spices, maybe, fumes from cooking. He followed along into a large, if low-ceilinged room, with many short platforms with some sort of four-legged small tables around them, everything well decorated and colorful, full of all the alien races, and stepped to the side, along the wall, looking around. A few of the aliens stared at him, nodding or pointing, but said nothing. He could understand not a word of what was being said around him.

  Another alien approached, handed him a small device. It said, as the alien spoke, “This will allow you to understand us, and we you, should you choose to speak. The Sky Lady approaches.” It handed the device to him, and left.

  Almost immediately, the sound level dropped, as a tall biped, covered in a blue material, walked slowly into the room, limping slightly, from the same door he’d used. Its bare face held the dark and swollen areas he remembered. It looked at him briefly, then moved along, greeting others as it did so. Borrelia remembered it as the one in the tent, and on the video screen. The Sky Lady. How apt a title, he thought.

  The Sky Lady turned, and slowly squatted onto one of the small tables, like the one in the tent, and let her legs dangle forward. How impossibly strange they are. Had I not seen it, I would doubt the existence of such a beast, Borrelia thought. But it lived, moved, walked about, and now spoke. He held up the device close to his ear, and heard her words in his language from that.

  “Thank you all for coming. We need to make some major decisions, and I would like to have your thoughts as we do so.”

  Borrelia thought for sure the translator device deceived him. He held it up closer to his ear. This one, this leader, asking for advice from the underlings, the understaff? It did not simply decide, then tell everyone what to do? How can such a society function?

  But the Sky Lady proceeded to do exactly that. It listened, asked questions, and most astonishing of all, even allowed them to interrupt her. Impossible, such a one would be dead within the hour, should they have the effrontery to interrupt T’ming. Is this one a weakling, inept, unable to lead, without power? His respect began to decline, his doubts as to who was in charge grow.

  “What then do you seek on the planet?” the Sky Lady said to one of the most vocal four legged aliens. Borrelia listened.

  “Arts, spirits, finely woven cloth goods, crystal goods, wall hangings, rugs. Other such things of value.”

  “Yes, and jewelry, gems, and the like. Are you willing to pay the price in lives to secure them?” the Sky Lady asked.

  The alien stammered, nothing came out of the speaker. “No, not...”

  “We have lost three members of the expedition in three landings. At that rate, how many can we do, until we run out of people?”

  “We will not, surely, not everywhere.”

  “I did not come here to 47-T to fight my way onto a hostile planet, one who does not welcome our traders. Have you?”

  “No, of course not. But surely there must be areas friendly to us.”

  “Perhaps.” Her gaze, her eyes, found Borrelia, and he leaned back against the wall. “We have one here among us, who might say. Borrelia, will you join me here, that all may speak to you, and see you?” and a hand on a long arm swept the area to her side.

  Borrelia clamped his anus shut against a sudden cramping weakness. He said, “Me?”

  “Yes, we would speak to you, if you agree. Come forward, so all may see.”

  Nervously, Borrelia slowly moved ahead, threading his way among the numerous aliens, his sphincter threatening to loosen at any moment. When he arrived near the Sky Lady, but not to close, he bowed, and squatted down, to help control his system.

  The Sky Lady asked him, “Borrelia you know the planet well. We came here to trade and explore. Will we be welcome to do so?”

  “No,” he said, deciding on the truth as he saw it. He immediately added, “Many below covet your powers, your machines, your floating devices. They wish to have them, and will kill you all so they may take them.”

  “Yes, your leader, the T’ming fellow will, but he controls only a small fraction of the surface. What about the other places?” a member of the audience before him said, not waiting for permission from the Sky Lady, and incredible breach of protocol.

  Borrelia looked to the Sky Lady to see if she’d ask him to answer or anything. Seeing her silence as permission to do so, he turned to the audience and said, “Though T’ming’s country is small, his influence is large. His–forces–infest the world throughout. Even where he is not, his word is obeyed. His agents are everywhere, in every country, his navy and air force rules the sea and the sky,” he paused, looked at the Sky Lady again, “and they are most ruthless.”

  “We landed in one place, far from T’ming, no one had any fear of T’ming, and they traded freely with us,” another of the group said, interrupting again. Amazing.

  “Deep inland, somewhere?” Borrelia asked the speaker.

  “Yes, well...”

  “T’ming will find that place, and kill the traders, sooner or later.”

  A rabble arose, voices calling, questions flying, he couldn’t understand it all. And he saw the power of the lady again. She raised a hand, both hands, and the voices faded, and cease
d. That impressed him.

  “Explain why he does that,” she said, looking at him.

  “T’ming uses espionage, spies, paid killers, and agents of all sorts, to exert control, and get tribute. Those who disobey, or resist him, soon have unfortunate accidents,” he said. “Or they die from some mysterious illness–poison, perhaps. Or they are murdered in their beds. Or worse, if well protected by guards who can’t be bought, or paid off, the family is kidnapped, or disappeared, or killed. Or the members of the guards families, even.”

  “No one has resisted this one? Anywhere? This is a big planet.”

  “There was one–several, actually–who did for a while, in times not long past. But as they were removed, and overcome, one by one, all the others began to cooperate. And for the one who resisted the longest–his province was invaded, his army defeated, his people slaughtered, his palaces destroyed, and he killed...horribly, after his family. This one, this T’ming, he is not one to trifle with. And he likes you all not at all.” He looked about the room. “I regret I must say these things, but it is so.” He looked at Lori. “As you, Sky Lady, must know.” He surprised himself, using the honorific. But is seemed so natural, after all.

  Borrelia recognized the anger and frustration in the voices that grew in the room again, and momentarily feared for his life. But no one approached, and again the Sky Lady brought order to the room.

  “Comments?” again, she asked.

  “We can protect any we trade with. T’ming is no match for our forces.”

  “Yes, as long as you are here. And for how long will that be? When you return to your own places, then T’ming will return to where you were. And it will not be pleasant for any you dealt with,” Borrelia said. “That is, if they live–and you all, too–through the poison, through the bullets and missiles, through the bombs he’ll send, or martyrs will bring to you, even at the cost of their own selves.”